Hey all!

This and the follwoing fic were writen for hte necro a while ago, but enver made it up because Iw as planing on doing soemthign else with the previous Warren plot. But I forget what. So these are based on the band name Inkubus Sukkubus. Listen to their music. It is good.


He watched his quarry weave through the crowd, never far from the center of energy. She laughed and flirted, and Remy could easily see what she was really doing. If left on her own, she would make the party seem like a library discussion in an hour. Her appetite was voracious, even for one of her kind.

A smile snaked its way across Remy's face. He strode over tot eh woman, his best come hither expression in place. She noticed him, a fresh source of energy, a new dish to taste, before she saw him. Her expression nearly mirrored the man's. She strode over him, her step full of bounce, and her face contorted with laughter she couldn't contain, nor explain. This was such a rush. New Orleans during Mardi Gras was always replete with her kind, and it didn't dim the party one bit. It was so much fun to live again! It seemed like she was only ever alive for one night a year. So why not trouble one man more than others, to make her fly length life worthwhile?

The man ordered a drink for himself, and took a seat at the bar, turned to face his willing quarry. He loved New Orleans. He knew it like the back of his hand, and there was always plentiful bait, especially this time of year. No sulking around graveyards, or cruising the bars for most of the month. It was almost solid tourists, which was the way it ought to be. The beautiful women that drove his life were sometimes too willing to be any fun, but you could easily change that with a few rough words, and the right pressure on the right places.

Rogue set herself on a bar stool next to him, ordering her own drink before turning to him. "So, you live around here? Or you come here ta see them shootin' those stupid college girls showin' off their breasts?"

(I'm here to do more 'n dat t' a couple, chere.) the man thinks to himself, before replying. "I'm a local, actin' as a free-range tour guide. I c'n show y' all de pleasures of Nawlins, in a night y' won' ever f'get." He says, purposely thickening his accent, because he knows it'll impress her, and give him a few thin tendrils of lust to feed form, and because it will back his story up.

The woman grinned and laughed. "Lead the way, shugah. Ah'm sho' ya know some good views." (This is gonna be easier than I thought. I'll have to be careful not to kill him, since he's so willing to share.)

The man finished his drink, and offered his arm to the woman, who pushed her hair out of her face before accepting it. The motion forced Remy to look at her face for once, instead of her aura or body. He noticed she had the most unusual hair style he'd seen so far. It amused him. She wasn't even trying to blend in. It made her look even more innocent, to be so blatant. (Ah, the tangled webs we weave, neh, chere?)

The two left the club, and strolled through the city. Rogue kept trying to lead Remy to the more crowded parts, while Remy led her to the alleys, the back ways, the deserted parts, where other of his ilk lay in wait. He would have to beat them off, unless he thought of a tactic they wouldn't. . . a grin threatened to cross his face, but was checked.

"Chere, y' wan' t' see de bes' graveyards in Nawlins? Dey're a huge tourist attraction, but t'night, dey'll be empty, 'n' we c'n enjoy dem t'gether."

Rogue giggled, and eventually began laughing, the way a person who's drunk does. She nodded and smiled hard enough to break her face. "Ah'm game, sugah."

"Yes you are." Remy muttered. Luckily for him, the sound of Bourbon Street still covered anything said quieter than a scream.

The walk was long and winding. Remy kept building subtle amounts of lust. Nothing to make her want him to jump her, but enough to keep him sated until he could have the main course. Rogue was slowly gently draining him as well, just enough to get a taste, so he wouldn't overpower her and make here even crazier than usual.

True to Remy's word, the graveyard was empty. Rogue wandered around, taking in the breath of personality and life left by the inhabitants and the hoards of guests that had taken in the views. She laughed and turned toward Remy, ready to take him completely.

Remy reacted faster than her. When she turned, he tackled her, using his increased strength to hold her hands over her head in one of his, while the other tore at her clothing. His face was glowing with a fiendish light, and the screams of his victim made it even more thrilling, more of a rush. He buried his face in her breasts, biting one viciously, while his hand finished tearing away her ruined clothing.

Rogue began doing the only thing she could think to do. She turned her powers on him full strength, trying to take in his entire essence, to kill him and make this stop. Which succeeded. Soon the cold shell of what had been an incubus lay on the ground, hollow and useless.

But this shell was not alone. The psychic vampire was csceraming, writhing in horror. Somehow she hadn't realized what she'd been attacked by, hadn't seen the power. He was taking her over form inside. Better to have left her body to be ruined once, than to have him always in her mind, raping her over and over, his lust unquenchable. The pain became so horrible, she couldn't stay conscious. But to become unconscious was to put herself at his mercy.

The incubus laughed and pulled the psychic vampire farther into her mind, pulling away her mental blocks and defenses the way he'd disposed of her clothing.


Reveiw!

Peace and Love,

Panther Nesmith